Apr
27
2013

it is this
this morning
misunderstood
somewhere beneath sudden
with first words
outstretched
like stealth
strung by its
smooth-stilled legs

venetian silence
abreast
a blink
and undressed open
beside over under
furrowed whisper
choir certain
a vestment kiss
piece by piece

uprooted
savor of coral
of autumn reach
and another
gathered or beheld
imperfect
sidestep into twist
arisen touch
woven and
kept


In: Poetry
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